


Blackwood's Books

by HopefulNebula



Category: Original Work
Genre: Books, Bookstores, Gen, Sympathetic Magic, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 07:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13946787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefulNebula/pseuds/HopefulNebula
Summary: The life of a magical bookstore proprietor is a lot more mundane than you'd expect.Fortunately, it's also just as magical as you hope.





	Blackwood's Books

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jenett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenett/gifts).



The books themselves aren't intrinsically magical. That's the first thing you need to know, and since you're the kind of person who's reading this letter in the first place, you probably have an idea about _why_. Since it's unwise to assume things, especially in a place like this, I'll make it explicit.

There is no magic in the paper, or the pigment, or the binding. There isn't even magic in the words. There's power there, yes, but no inherent magic. The content of the books is immaterial. So is their format - you should see our audiobook selection when it makes itself available.

What matters is the people who read them, and are changed by the words. If a book affects a person - _really_ gets into their heart, deep down - _that's_ what imbues it with magic. It's entirely a power we give them, and it's my job to take care of the books until they find someone else who needs the influence they hold.

Now that we have that out of the way, let's get to the rest of the details.

If you're reading this letter, you're certainly curious about the nature of this place. That's a little bit tricky. The shop itself is real and physical. This isn't one of those little magic shops you read about where it appears and disappears as the plot demands. The building is still here when nobody's inside. It's exactly as big on the inside as you would expect from the outside. We pay rent. We lock the doors at night. We even moved locations a few years ago. Once again, you'll find that the magic is in the merchandise.

We buy books from our patrons, of course, but not nearly enough to fill our shelves. Mostly they just kind of show up when nobody's looking. (When I asked Ernest if _he_ knows how it happens, he just blinked at me and went back to sleep. For a guard cat, he isn't very watchful.)

The content of this shop is never the same from day to day. It usually stays consistent enough to avoid arousing suspicion from patrons, but the books change based on what's needed. Last year I spent an evening arranging romance novels on the display table by the front door, and when I opened up the next morning, they'd been replaced with play scripts. Of course there was some Shakespeare and Williams and Molière (and a very nice hardcover _Hamilton_ book full of photos and annotations that I'd have brought home myself if I could have), but the majority of the space was taken up with scripts for shows most people have never heard of. I thought there was no way these would sell, but once you've worked here as long as I have, you learn to trust the books, so I let it be.

The table was empty by the end of the day.

It turns out that when a charter bus breaks down on the way to an amateur playwrights showcase, the two dozen MFA students inside need a place to go while their wrangler arranges for alternative transportation. Where better to wait than that bookstore a block away?

The thing is, I'm certain most of those books had never entered the store before that day, which brings me to my next point:

I don't know where the books come from.

We do buy some books from patrons, but most of those are mundane. (It can be hard to tell the difference between the two, especially when you're unfamiliar with the book in question.) But there are no records of us buying most of the books we sell, because they just kind of show up.

We come across retired library books fairly often, usually after nearby libraries announce book sales. I think the store plucks some of its books from other stores in the area, but that can't account for everything we have in stock. The best explanation we can come up with is that there are other shops like this one around the world, all linked in some sort of network. When our stock shifts around, it has to go _somewhere_ , and there's a lot of really niche literature that has to come _from_ somewhere. We can't be the only shop like this out there, but I haven't been able to verify any others.

By the way, If people ask where we got such an extensive selection of Soviet-era science fiction novels, I usually tell them that we frequent estate sales. We do, after all. It's hard to quantify something like this, but I get the sense that estate sales and such are an excellent source of the kind of books we sell here. At least, they're a good way to find books whose owner cherished them.

These books want to be loved again, that's the key. Once they've been awakened, they desperately need to find other people whom they can affect in the same way. I think this shop, and others like it, is a nexus point for them. Enough concentrated magic exists here to bring in more magical books, and together they bring in the people who need them, which makes the magic itself stronger. It's a nice little feedback loop.

I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here, but it's better to get it out ahead of time.

You see, if you're reading this letter, then you're... well, you're the kind of person this store needs. The magic of this place seems to extend to my own intentions toward it, and this letter will only find its way to someone who needs it. I'll need them, too.

I'll need _you_.

If you're reading this, then you're the kind of person who's probably turned a book or two magical before. You're the kind of person who can keep a secret, and do it honestly. You're the kind of person who likes people, but trusts ideas. You're the kind of person who doesn't mind prying a large polydactyl tomcat off the front desk four times an hour. 

And you're the kind of person who would probably like to work here. From time to time, we need new employees, and if this letter's resurfaced, this is one of those times.

Bring this letter up to the desk if you're interested. I'll be waiting.


End file.
